Tributes to Mother

New Castle News (New Castle, Pennsylvania) May 13, 1922

Image from the novel, St. Leon by William Godwin – 1835 (google link)

AN ANCIENT TOAST.

It was a grand day in the old chivalric time. The wine circled around in a noble hall, and the sculptured walls rang with sentiment and song. The lady of each knightly heart was pledged by name, and many a sylable significant of loveliness had been uttered, until it came to St. Leon’s turn, when, lifting the sparkling cup on high:

“I drink to one,” he said,
“Whose image never may depart,
Deep graven on a grateful heart,
Till memory is dead;

“To one whose love for me shall last
When lighter passions long have passed,
So holy ’tis and ture;
To one whose love hath longer dwelt,
More deeply fixed, more keenly felt,
Than any pledged by you.”

Each guest upstarted at the word,
And laid a hand upon his sword,
With fiery flashing eye;
and Stanley said, “We crave the name,
Proud Knight, of this most peerless dame
Whose love you count so high.”

St. Leon paused as if he would
Not breathe her name in careless mood
Thus lightly to another;
Then bent his noble head as though
To give that word the reverence due,
and gently said, “MY MOTHER!”

Cambridge City Tribune (Cambridge City, Indiana) Nov 25, 1869

A School-Girl of the Period

Image from Holy Cats!

A School-Girl of the Period.

Geography? Yes, there’s a lesson each day,
But it’s awfully hard to remember.
We’ve been in South Africa nearly a month;
Perhaps we’d go north by November.

What History have we? It’s quite a big book.
Without any pictures — the bother!
To-day I was told I’d sustained a defeat
In the battle of — something or other!

Arithmetic? Oh, it’s the bane of my life!
No matter how hard I may study,
My knowledge of dividends, fractions, and rules
Continues unchangeably muddy.

Proficient in spelling? I hope that I am,
Though I shine less as writer than talker;
And don’t mind confessing how often I use
A pocket-edition of Walker.

I write compositions? Of course, once a week —
We’ve such a dull subject to-morrow!
I manage to spin out a page and a half,
Though lots of girls copy and borrow.

You ask me which lesson of all I prefer?
You’ll think my reply quite alarming;
In French we’ve a gentleman teacher you know
And somehow it’s perfectly charming.

— EDGAR FAWCEIT, in Harper’s Magazine for October.

Cambridge City Tribune (Cambridge City, Indiana) Oct 14, 1869

WHO CARES

{For the Tribune.}
WHO CARES.

WHO CARES what the people think
Of my religious views.
While I survive, or swim, or sink,
I’ll claim the right to choose.

So if I’ve sense the truth to see,
I want nor need a Priest.
Can stand erect, in manhood free,
And with my Master feast.

WHO CARES if Priests should reprobate,
And curse me with a frown,
I will defy both Church and State,
And live their malice down.

WHO CARES what the Church folks say,
About the dress I wear;
They for my soul had better pray
That I for Heaven prepare.

WHO CARES for the revilers talk,
Who lap from slanders bowl,
While I pursue a Godly walk
And purify my soul.

WHO CARES if the rich deride
And sneer because I’m poor,
They may brought down in their pride
And beg from door to door.

I CARE for all that makes men good
For all that makes them wise,
And I am sure that if I could
I’d raise them to the skies.

The naked clothe, the hungry feed,
The thirsty, water give.
I’d satisfy man’s every need,
And have him love and live.

Philanthropy shall rule my life,
Good will to God and man,
and in a pure and manly strife
Reach Heaven IF I CAN.

— M.R. HULL.

Cambridge City Tribune (Cambridge City, Indiana) Dec 16, 1869

Lad of Seventeen Butchers an Octogenarian

Image from the University of Vermont website – An Agricultural History of Hinesburg, Vermont – (Preliminary Research page)

New York Herald (New York, New York) Apr 27, 1869

THE BOY MURDERER IN VERMONT.

A Lad of Seventeen Butchers an Octogenarian.

Sketch of His Crime, Capture, Trial and Sentence.

WINDSOR, Vt., Dec. 23, 1870.
In the State Prison in this place is now confined, under sentence of death, a young man only nineteen. His crime, the murder of a defenceless old man in his own doorway, is justly considered one of the worst cases of homicide ever known in Vermont. His cool indifference and apparent carelessness of the consequences of his diabolical performance show an amount of depravity seldom found in one so young. This boy’s name is Henry Welcome, of French parentage, and his victim was Mr. Perry Russell, of Hinesburg, Vt. Mr. Russell was a well known and respected farmer, a member of the methodist Episcopal Church, of some considerable property and aged about seventy-six years.

THE MURDER
was committed on the evening of the 3d of October, 1868, about half-past eight. Mr. Russell and his wife, the sole occupants of the house, had retired to rest about eight o’clock, but half an hour afterwards were startled by a knocking at the door. Mrs. Russell told her husband not to open the door until he assertained who was there. Mr. Russell accordingly made inquiry, and was answered, “Joe Bushy, I want to come in.” Deceived by mention of a name with which he was familiar, he opened the door and was instantly felled by a blow from a heavy barndoor hinge, twenty inches in length, in the hands of Henry Welcome. His groans and exclamation, “O Lord!” aroused his wife from bed, who, coming to the spot, saw the young assassin standing over the unfortunate old man and raining a shower of blows upon him with the murderous hinge. Almost paralyzed with terror for her own safety, the old lady fled to the nearest neighbors, one hundred rods distant, and alarmed them, who proceeded in turn to the next house, and from there they all returned to the scene of the tragedy. The murderer had gone, but his victim was lying on the floor, where he had first fallen, in a pool of blood and breathing heavily. He lingered in an unconscious state until the next morning at ten o’clock, when he died. The surgeons in attendance found nine scalp wounds from one to three inches in length and a deep cut in the crown of his head. The murderer, after finishing his horrid work, ransacked the house for the plunder he expected to obtain, but could find nothing except a small black trunk containing notes, deeds and other valuable papers. This was afterwards found on an adjoining farm in a field half a mile distant, the contents taken out and strewed around. Welcome was induced to murder the old man in hope of finding a large sum of money, but in this he was foiled, as Mr. Russell had, a few days previous, deposited his funds, some $5,000 in United States bonds, in a bank at Burlington, a few miles from Hinesburg. He knew that Mr. Russell possessed this money, because he had at one time worked for him.

THE PURSUIT OF THE ASSASSIN
was active and successful. The services of N.B. Flanagan, an expert detective of Burlington, were immediately secured, and a reward of $1,000 was offered to bring the villain to justice. On the 5th of October, just two days after the butchery, he was arrested at Waterbury, Vt., where he had gone on the cars from Essex Junction, and he was taken to Burlington. On his way there he met the funeral procession of his victim and displayed the most astonishing indifference and utter coolness.

THE TRIAL.
After a preliminary examination before a justice he was committed to jail to await trial at the County Court. The following April his case came up, and a verdict of guilty was given. On a technicality of law he was allowed to appeal to the Supreme Court. Pending the session of that tribunal he was remanded to the State Prison at Windsor, the jail at Burlington not being considered sufficiently secure. The Supreme Court having confirmed the edict of the County Court, Welcome was sentenced “to solitary confinement one year in the State Prison at Windsor, and then to be hanged by the neck until dead.”

EFFORTS FOR COMMUTATION
of sentence to life imprisonment at hard labor were nearly successful. The Legislature in session last October were petitioned on two grounds, viz., the extreme youth of the prisoner and the dodge of insanity. The House of Representatives turned a willing ear to these petitioners, notwithstanding the fact that a much larger number of his own townsmen prayed that the extreme penalty of the law might be enforced in his case. They even went so far as to allow his lawyer to plead before them as a jury, as it were — a proceeding which has no precedent in the doings of of any legislative body. A committee was also appointed to visit him in the prison; and the result was that two bills were passed, one to commute Welcome’s sentence, the other to abolish capital punishment. Such summary action startled the people of the whole State tremendously. Protests arose from every quarter, especially from the clergy and the press. The Senate, however, to their honor be it said, refused to pass either of the bills. People breathed free once more. The efforts of a few false philanthropists to override the just and wholesome laws of the State, which have heretofore been rigidly enforced, have signally failed. In consequence of this extraordinary effort made to save one of the worst villains from his just deserts  great interests is manifested in this case. The people of Vermont feel that their safety lies in a vigorous execution of the law.

THE CRIMINAL
is now in close confinement, calm and quiet. He occupies his time mainly in reading the books furnished by the prison library. Although he takes no exercise, his health is excellent and he eats hearty meals. The chaplain of the prison visits him constantly, and it is to be hoped that the doomed young man will seriously contemplate his dreadful end, so fast approaching. The execution is to take place on Friday, the 20th day of January next.

New York Herald (New York, New York) Dec 26, 1870

[Excerpt]
WINDSOR, Vt., Jan. 19, 1871.

Henry Welcome, a lad of nineteen, who has been in close confinement in the State Prison in this place the year past for the crime of murder, is to be executed here to-morrow. This young man was born in Hinesburg, Vt. His father is a French Canadian and his mother an American. Though poor they were very respectable, and the mother, a professing Christian, trained up her family, consisting of eleven children, in the same pathways of virtue in which she herself had been instructed. But, alas, her pious teachings did not restrain Henry from an early career in the paths of crime. At a tender age he developed some very bad qualities; was idle, disobedient, ill-tempered and of a very revengeful spirit.

HIS FIRST EXPLOIT
which brought him into the clutches of the law, at the age of sixteen, was the hiring of a horse and buggy, which he ran away with. He was captured and lodged in the jail at the city of Burlington; here he remained awaiting trial until he was nearly seventeen years old. His case coming before the County Court, the jury brought in a verdict exonerating him, on account of his extreme youth, from any vile intent, more than a boyish scrape in running away with the team. He was accordingly discharged from custody and arrived home just three days previous to the night of the murder.

THE VILLAGE OF HINESBURG,
where the deed was committed is a mere hamlet, consisting of a few houses, church, store, tavern, &c., the central trading point and Post Office of the township of the same name. The population are almost wholly farmers. It is situated in the southern part of Chittenden county, about ten miles from Burlington, the county seat. The nearest railway station is Charlotte, on the Rutland Railroad, about five miles distant. One would suppose that in such a quiet, Christian and comparatively secluded community incentives to vice would be rare; but where is evil not found?
…..

New York Herald (New York, New York) Jan 20, 1871

The Gallows

WINDSOR, Vt., Jan. 20, 1871.
Henry Welcome, formerly of Hinesbury, to-day paid the awful penalty of death for the murder of an old man named Perry Russell, in September, 1869. This is the ninth execution for murder which has taken place within the boundaries of the State of Vermont.

Yesterday afternoon several people visited him, among them a reporter, to whom he made some further and interesting statements in regard to his early life. It seems that he left home at the age of fifteen, contrary to the commands of his parents, to go to Boston, and worked there a while. From this step he dates his commencement of a career of crime. He soon fell into the company of wicked men and lewd women, and from drinking he took to gambling, and then taking money in small sums from his employer, who, finding out these things, warned Welcome to desist or leave his employ, which latter course he immediately pursued, arriving home only a short time before he stole the horse and buggy.

During the afternoon he was calm, collected, ate well and slept some, being ever ready to converse with those who were disposed to see and talk with him. Last evening a special guard was placed at the door of his cell, who remained in attendance until he left the cell for the last time. The chaplain remained with him until eleven o’clock P.M.

THE CULPRIT’s STATEMENT TO THE CHAPLAIN.
Welcome appeared much broken down. Tears and sobs came from his bosom. He wrote a last farewell to his sorrow stricken family, which was extremely affecting. He did not appear to have as much fortitude as the time drew near. To the chaplain he made the following statement:

I hope that my sad end will be an effectual warning to all young people against disobedience to their parents, the use of strong drink and the choice of bad company. These things have been my ruin. May God save others from coming to my miserable end. I have no ill will toward anybody, and I ask forgiveness of all that I have wronged. My prayer is that god would have mercy on my soul and make my example of use to others. The Word of God and the hopes of the Gospel are now my only refuge, and the cry of my heart is to Jesus, “Lord remember me when Thou comest into Thy Kingdom.”

THE LAST PRAYER.
His last prayer in the cell before the chaplain left him was, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” During the latter part of the night he got considerable sleep.

THE NIGHT BEFORE THE EXECUTION.
Early in the evening some considerable excitement was caused by the attempted escape of a convict, who his in one of the shops, but was found, after a thorough search with a rope tackle for climbing the wall, and was incarcerated in the solitary cell. Also during the night two men were brought in, who were arrested by detectives Flanagan and Squires on the night express, suspected of being the burglars concerned in the Waterbury Bank robbery, which took place on Wednesday night. Notwithstanding these disturbances, Welcome slept quite well from two to four o’clock. He had conversation with the guard about the army, &c., which diverted his mind so that he was almost cheerful again.

This morning he partook of a slight breakfast, and the chaplain reached his cell about nine o’clock.

THE ERECTION OF THE SCAFFOLD
commenced about that time also. The noise of the hammers could easily be heard throughout the prison. It was the same one which had been used in former executions — a common gallows, two drops, with a fall of six feet six inches. From the platform, which is nine feet long by four feet wide, to the crossbeam is eight feet. The drop itself is four feet long and eighteen inches wide. The rope is common half-inch, and is the same that was around the necks of Cavanaugh, Ward and Miller. The gallows stands in the southeast corner of the prison, between the corridor and the wall.

VISITORS TO THE PRISONER.
During the forenoon quite a number of visitors entered the prison and watched the erection of the gallows with eager interest. At ten o’clock all reporters were given an opportunity by the Sheriff to see Welcome as he sat in his cell. He looked very bright, and talked with quite a degree of cheerfulness. In answer to an inquiry about how he had passed the night he replied, “Pretty well; I slept a little from two o’clock and ate some breakfast.”

“You look brightly,” said a reporter; “keep good courage. Its pretty tough, but keep up.”

“Yes,” said he, “I mean to.”

“Do you remember any one in Boston?” was then asked.

“Oh, yes. I remember Mr. Bates, lawyer, near Cornhill.”

“Do you want to send any word to him?”

“No; don’t know as I do particularly.”

“How about North street?”

“I have had enough of North street,” he said, with a smile and shrug of the shoulders.

“Well, goodby.”

And all shook hands with him and left the cell, only two friends and the chaplain remaining. All through this conversation he maintained a cheerful demeanor, standing erect, with folded arms. His is about five feet ten inches in height and of average form, with a rather pleasant face and black eyes.

PREPARING FOR THE FINAL SCENE.
As the hour of the final scene drew nigh the crowd around and in the guardroom of the prison augmented rapidly, and at half-past twelve there was a great press to obtain admittance; but none were allowed to go except those who had passes from the Sheriff or Superintendent of the prison. Among those present were the twelve legal witnesses selected by the Governor, and one or two friends or acquaintances of the deceased; also Dr. Robinson, a physician of Felchville, Vt., and Rev. Mr. Gadworth, a Baptist clergyman. The directors of the prison, Messrs. Hartshorn, Rice and Shedd, were there too. About noon the chaplain asked him if he would like anything to eat. He said he would like a cup of tea, which was brought to him. He then prayed for himself and the chaplain prayed with him.

THE DEATH MARCH.
At twenty minutes to one o’clock the death march commenced. The procession issued from the cell in order as follows: — The chaplain, Revs. Franklin Butler and Surrey, W. Stimson, Sheriff of Windsor county; the condemned, between Deputy Sheriffs Rollin, Amsden and Luther Kendall; the twelve legal witnesses, &c. Passing by his coffin, which stood near the scaffold, he ascended the stairs with tolerable firmness and stood upon the platform of the gallows. The persons upon the platform were the chaplain, the Sheriff, his deputies, Amsden, Kendall and Armstrong, and J.A. Pollard, Superintendent of the prison.

READING THE DEATH WARRANT.
The exercises commenced with the reading of a short passage of Scripture and prayer by the chaplain, when the death warrant was read by the Sheriff, after which he addressed the prisoner thus: — “Henry Welcome, have you anything to say why you should not suffer the extreme penalty of the law?”

THE CULPRIT’S LAST WORDS.
A moment of silence, and Welcome began: —

I cannot say much. Words are inadequate to express my feelings. I hope my situation and fate will be an example to others to keep out of bad company and low-bred places, and obey their parents and stay at home. Disobedience to my good parents has brought me here. I hope God will have mercy on my soul, for Christ’s sake. I have made my peace with God, and I want to caution young men, before these witnesses, not to touch liquor, for if they take one glass they will want another. I cannot say any more, my heart is too full.

These words were delivered in a trembling voice and with tearful eyes. After being placed on the drop, his hands and feet were strapped by Deputy Sheriff Amsden, and the noose adjusted around his neck.

A PRAYER FOR MERCY.
He then shook hands with the Superintendent, Sheriff and deputies; then he broke forth into a most fervent, touching and heartfelt prayer, his accents being quite distinct, although his whole frame was shaken with the violence of his emotions. He distinctly expressed his faith in Jesus and hope of full pardon for his transgressions, saying much in substance that was contained in his address. He particularly prayed for his poor mother; that he name might not be a lasting disgrace to her, and though dying so ignominiously in this world, felt confident in the hope of a blessed immortality. The chaplain then stepped and took his hand, speaking a farewell to him in tones inaudible to the deeply moved spectators.

THE BLACK CAP WAS THEN ADJUSTED,
and Sheriff Stimson said, in calm tones, “The time has now arrived when the extreme sentence of the law must be executed on you, Henry Welcome, and may God have mercy on your soul.”

THE LAST OF EARTH.
The spring was pressed by a deputy and at precisely two minutes before one P.M. the body of Henry Welcome shot downwards and his soul took its everlasting flight. In six minutes the pulse ceased to beat, and the prison surgeon, Dr. H. Clark, pronounced him dead. In twenty minutes the body was cut down and put in the coffin, to be burned within the prison walls. Thus the law is vindicated in Vermont.

New York Herald (New York, New York) Jan 21, 1871

May Day Moving

With May Day comes the annual moving proposition. It carries with it the usual annoyance of shifting your abode, for what would the first day of May come to if we didn’t continue the practice of moving? Beautiful May, all except the inconvenience of moving – a custom that won’t live down.

Portsmouth Daily Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) May 1, 1912

May Day Moving Sets New Chicago Record
(International News Service)

CHICAGO, May 24. — May Day moving here set a new record for the period of the housing shortage, according to the requests for changes to telephone and gas companies. More than 3,000 changes daily were asked of a gaslight and coke company before the yearly exodus to new homes. This is 50 per cent higher than 1921.

J.S. Waterfield, Chicago Real Estate board said the “own your own home” idea is responsible for hundreds of the movings.

New Castle News (New Castle, Pennsylvania) May 24, 1922

CHICAGO, May 1. — Thousands of families in Chicago went on a “rent strike” today and refused to vacate their apartments in accordance with May Day moving orders, H.S. Standish, president of the Chicago Tennants’ Protective League, asserted.

Mr. Standish predicted that 10,000 tenants would defy efforts of landlords to evict them.

Some of the disputes would be settled by arbitration, Mr. Standish said, but others would be carried into court for jury trials.

Battle Landlords
By JAMES HENLE,
N.E.A. Staff Correspondent.

NEW YORK, May 1. Two men are largely responsible for starting in this state the anti-rent profiteering crusade which, unless the laws are finally thrown out by the courts, has limited landlords to 25 per cent increases.

One of them is not even a New Yorker. His name is James F. Gannon, Jr., and he is city commissioner of Jersey City.

The other no longer hold any official post. His name is Nathan Hirsch and he was formerly chairman of the Mayor’s Committee on Rent Profiteering.

Victims Aided

It was Hirsch’s committee — and largely Hirsch himself — who first came to the aid of the victims or rent profiteers. Before this persons who objected to extortionate rent increases were called “Bolsheviki.” Hirsch had little real authority, but he used what he had with good effect.

The result was that any number of cases were compromised last year by the landlords, and tenants were enable to stay on by paying only moderate increases in rent. A strong public sentiment was built up to oppose rent hogs.

Hirsch was serving without pay and when the appropriation he asked to continue the committee’s work was refused he resigned.

Hug[e] Rent Strike

Then came Gannon. Early this year he engineered the biggest rent strike ever conducted and won it. Thousands of tenants with the city’s backing, refused to pay unreasonable rent increases and won in the courts.

This woke New York up. If Jersey City can do it, why can’t we? was the comment. The result was a wave of popular sentiment that swept everything before it and resulted in the enactment by the Legislature of a dozen laws to protect the tenant, the most important of which is the measure limiting rent increases to 25 per cent.

Ogden Standard Examiner (Ogden, Utah) May 1, 1920

NOTES AND GOSSIP

The month of May, when poets sing of roses and meadows decked with green, is, in the vicinity of New York, the flitting time for half the world — or has been. Fortunes are changing and even the May moving day, so long sacred to New Yorkers, is giving way before the iconoclastic spirit of the age. Enough, and more than enough of it, is left however. The removals of the great annual flitting time, often useless, often undertaken without clear reason than that restlessness so peculiar to American life, must cost the people of New York, Brooklyn and Jersey City, directly and indirectly, not less than $3,000,000 in actual money outlay, to say nothing of personal discomfort. Moving time entails an endless train f discomforts and disorders. It means a clear month’s comfort gone out of the year in preparing for the move and getting over it; is the direct cause of broken furniture not a little, of wrecked tempers by the thousands and of much actual suffering.

But moving day is not what it used to be. People who move in spring are beginning to discount it by removing at any time during the latter part of April, so that the first of May no longer resembles the fag end of a furniture dealer’s nightmare so much as it did. The real estate agents, too, have conspired against moving day. Not that the agents want people to stay where they are and forswear change. By no means. The more removals the more commissions for the agents. It is to increase their own profits and those of the owners that such strenuous efforts have been made, and with much success, to substitute October for May as the moving time. Many landlords now let  houses from October to October, and more are anxious to do so. The reason is that a good many people of moderate means, whose only hope of getting wives and babies into the country for the summer is to stop paying rent, and have been in the habit of giving up their houses on May 1, storing the furniture, packing off the family and seeking board until October, when the city residence could be safely resumed in another quarter. This arrangement was fine for the tenants, but it was bad for the owners and agents, consequently it had to be stopped. And it is being stopped.

Morning Oregonian (Portland, Oregon) May 1, 1887

MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN. —

The following unjustifiable case of landlord oppression is one of the many cases which May day moving has developed in Jersey City: — A widow named Jane Meara, with her five children, occupied a small store in Prospect street, near Morgan. The property changed hands, and as a consequence the widow was doomed; but her lease had not expired and she held a receipt for the rent of the premises, paid in advance, for the month of May. Under these circumstances the poor woman felt secure, at least for the present; but on May day, during her absence, her furniture and goods were thrown out of doors, and when she returned to her house she found the premises so locked and fastened that ingress was impossible, while every article of her household goods was drenched with rain on the sidewalk. She at once proceeded to Justice McAnally, who very humanely allowed her the use of a house for herself and her children till she can procure other quarters, as this was the only relief he could afford in the case. The woman has commenced a suit against the new proprietor, laying damages at $10,000.

New York Herald (New York, New York) May 3, 1869

NEW – YORK CITY.
First of May — Moving Day.

There was not as much moving yesterday as is common upon the last of April — pretty good evidence that landlords generally were wise enough to fall somewhat from their old rates of rent, and so far accommodate tenants that they could afford to keep their old premises another year. Whoever is abroad to day, however, will be disposed to think there never was so much moving before. It will begin early — before some of us are up, no doubt, and it will continue late. The sidewalks will be worse obstructed in every street than Wall-street is where the Brokers are in full blast. Old beds and ricketty bedstands, handsome pianos and kitchen furniture, will be chaotically huddled together. Everything will be in a muddle. Everybody in a hurry, smashing mirrors in his haste, and carefully guarding boot boxes from harm. Sofas that go out sound will go in maimed, tables that enjoyed castors will scratch along and “tip” on one less than its complement. Bed-screws will be lost in the confusion, and many a good piece of furniture badly bruised in consequence. Family pictures will be sadly marred, and the china will be a broken set before night, in many a house. All houses will be dirty — never so dirty — into which people move, and the dirt of the old will seem enviable beside the cleanliness of the new. The old people will in their hearts murmur at these moving dispensations. the younger people, though aching in every bone, and “tired to death,” will relish the change, and think the new closets more roomy and more nice, and delight themselves fancying how this piece of furniture will look here and that piece in the other corner. The still “younger ones” will still more enjoy it. Into the cellar and upon the roof, into the rat-holes and on  the yard fence, into each room and prying into every cupboard, they will make reprisals of many things “worth saving,” and mark the day white in their calendar, as little less to be longed for in the return than Fourth of July itself.

Keep your tempers, good people. Don’t growl at the carmen nor haggle over the price charged. When the scratched furniture comes in don’t believe it is utterly ruined, — a few nails, a little glue, a piece of putty, and a pint of varnish will rejuvenate many articles that will grow very old ‘twixt morning and night, and undo much of the mischief that comes of moving, and which at first sight seems irreparable.

At night, after you have kindled a fire in the grate, — don’t, because you have cleaned house, make your house a tomb for dampness, nor let the children shiver through the evening, — after the tea things have been set aside, be sure to take one peep of the moon in her eclipse. Nor stay too long to look at her, for her exhibition begins rather late, and you should be up early next day to tack down the carpets, set the furniture to rights and make a home of your new house. Moreover, if it rains or is very cloudy, take our advice and don’t look at the eclipse — it’s no great affair after all.

New York Daily Times (New York, New York) May 1, 1855

In Lighter Vein
_____

The May Queen

“You must wake and call me early,”
The prospective May Queen said.
But when called, the foxy girlie
Stayed in bed.

And her plan was far from silly
Though another served as Queen,
For the winds were raw and chilly
On the green.

To the first my hat I’m doffing,
She who dodged the breezes bleak,
For the other will be coughing
All the week.
_____
Bolting The Ticket.

“The young men have chosen her to be Queen of May.”

“And how do the other girls like that?”

“Don’t seem to like it. They’re all insurgents.”
_____
May 1 In History.

May 1, 1589 — Queen Elizabeth is Queen of May, catches cold, and has the snuffles all day.

May 1, 1755 — Moving day, Dr. Johnson evicted for non-payment of rent.
_____

“Going Maying today?”

“Nix.”

“Why not?”

“I went Maying once.”
_____
Everything Upset.

A book of verses underneath the stove,

A lump of coal upon a silver tray;

Such are the things that make a terror of

The first of May.
_____
Moving Day.

“The May migration is very ancient.”

“So?”

“Yes; Shakespeare speaks of moving accidents by flood and field.”
_____
Nothing Romantic.

“Got your wife out for a May day stroll I see. Going to hunt for arbutus?”

“Quit your kidding. We’re going to hunt for a flat.”
_____
May Moving.

“You ought to read this book. It will move you deeply.”

“Do you know any concern that will move me cheaply? That is what I’m interested in just now.”

— Washington Herald.

Evening Post (Frederick, Maryland) May 1, 1912

True Realism.

Dramatic Author — I understand that you are looking for a new play.

Manager — Yes, but I am very hard to suit. I want a play which shall combine all the elements of tragedy, comedy, farce, pantomime and spectacle.

“That’s it. That’s what I’ve got. Chock full of tragedy and human suffering, tears and smiles, joy and woe, startling surprises, unheard of mishaps, wreck and ruin, lamentations and laughter.”

“What’s the title?”

“‘A May Day Moving.'”

“What’s the plot?”

“Hasn’t any plot. Just and ordinary May day moving.”

— New York Weekly.

The Marion Star (Marion, Ohio) Nov 9, 1895

The Bradford Era (Bradford, Pennsylvania) Apr 12, 1946

I thought the May Day moving had petered out in the 1920s, but evidently it was still going strong in Pennsylvania as late as the 1940s!

Images from the Newman Library – Baruch College

Where No Irish Need Apply

Image from the Food @ Hunters Hill website.

Hurray for the Irish!

The other day we tossed a scallion to an Irish-owned Employment Agency on 6th Avenue because it posted a sign reading: “No Irish Need Apply.”

Now comes a reminder from William Kenny of East Haven, Conn., who says that this is taken from an old Dean Swift quotation. Swift saw the same sign on a factory — No Irish Need Apply!

So he took out his pencil and under that sign be swiftied: “Who ever wrote this wrote it well, For the same is written on the Gates of Hell!”

Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Mar 23, 1932

Image from the Lehman College website.

The New York Sun supplies the following ingenious explanation of the origin of the expression, “No Irish need apply.” “The words for a time were common in advertisements of servants wanted. The story is that Dean Swift and his Irish servant were travelling near Cork and reached that city, then governed by some Englishman. He had fastened a sign on the gates to the effect that Irishmen would not be admitted. The dean passed in, Patrick was left outside. He saw this sign, and presently added this couplet:

“”‘Whoever wrote this, wrote it well,
For the same is written on the gates of hell.'”

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Feb 23, 1896

A girl, presenting herself for a situations, at a house “where no Irish need apply,” in answer to the question where she came from, said: “Shure, couldn’t you persave by me accint that it’s Frinch I am?”

Decatur Republican (Decatur, Illinois) Feb 25, 1869

DURING a recent engagement of Mr. and Mrs. Barney Williams in Philadelphia, a woman, with an infant, attended one of the performances. The baby kept up an incessant cry. At the end of the play, Mr. Williams was called before the curtain. The baby was bawling lustily. Mr. Williams looked around for a moment then said:

“Shure there’s a nurse wanted.”

A roar of laughter followed. When the mirth had subsided, the woman with the infant arose and replied:

“No Irish need apply.”

There was a tremendous burst of applause, amid which the woman, with the musical baby, triumphantly retired.

Decatur Review (Decatur, Illinois) May 25, 1871

New York Daily Times – Mar 25, 1854

The New York Times – May 10, 1859

The Daily Republican -(Illinois) – May 7, 1873

The Ohio Democrat – May 10, 1883

“No Irish Need Apply.”

Editors Morning Herald.

In running my eye over your list of local news items April 1st, my attention was particularly attracted by an advertisement for the respectable and responsible position of “maid of all work” with the qualifying (but not obsolete) phrase “no Irish need apply.” The advertiser did well to add this last phrase, lest all the Irish in the city might apply together, as the position was too good to miss it there would be a rush sure of the “wild Irish.”

I fear the advertisers have outlived their time, as Irish-phobia and Knownothingism are dead and buried so deep as to be past resurrection. I am told the same phrase, “no Irish need apply,” is posted on the doors and gates of the nether world, as well as on some of their facsimiles on terra firma. The occupants of the house referred to must be sleeping, or out of the country, for the last ten or eleven years, as during that time their fell of bigotry toward the Irish was crushed out and Irish have held positions of trust and danger from the time the first gun was fired on Fort Sumpter down to the present date. In conclusion my Irish friends are better off without such anglicised bigots for employers.

Yours, &c,
“IRISH”

Titusville Morning Herald (Titusville, Pennsylvania) Apr 2, 1872

“Dennis, my boy,” said a schoolmaster to his Hibernian pupil, “I fear I shall make nothing of you — you’ve no application.”

“An’ sure enough, sir,” said the quick-witted lad, “Isn’t myself that’s always been tould there is no occasion for it? Don’t I seen every day in the newspapers that ‘No Irish need apply,’ at all at all?”

The Fitchburg Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts) Aug 18, 1883

IT will be noticed that our city government is a regular knownothing concern. The first year of the present administration the Irish and Germans were recognized, in a small way, and even Johnny Bull got a small slice, but the second year every foreign born citizen was bounced. Not only has the promise to “take care” of the men who like a glass of beer been violated, but the men who were largely instrumental in the election of the republican city ticket aer not now recognized in the appointments. No Dutch or Irish need apply, except to shovel on the streets.

Decatur Morning Review (Decatur, Illinois) Jul 15, 1884

“No Irish Need Apply.”

TO THE EXPRESS: — An unknown poetic friend sends me the following stirring poem. It deserves circulation, and will be read with pride by all lovers of distressed Erin — the laurel-twined isle, so ignobly oppressed that station comes not till at treason’s behest:

J.N. GALLAGHER.

Shame on the lips that utter it, shame on the hands that write;
Shame on the page that publishes such slander to the light.
I feel my blood with lightning speed through all my being fly
At the old taunt, forever new —
No Irish need apply!

Are not our hands as stout and strong, our hearts as warm and true
As theirs who fling this mock at us to cheat us of our due?
While ‘neath our feet God’s earth stands firm and ‘bove us hangs his sky,
Where there is honor to be won —
The Irish need apply!

Oh! have not glorious things been done by Irish hearts and hands?
Are not her deeds emplazoned over many seas and lands?
There may be tears on Ireland’s cheek, but still her heart beats high,
And where there’s valor to be shown —
The Irish need apply!

Wherever noble thoughts are nurs’d and noble words are said,
Wherever patient faith endures, where hope itself seems dead,
Wherever wit and genius reign, and heroes tower high,
Wherever manly toil prevails —
The Irish will apply!

Wherever woman’s love is pure as soft, unsullied snow,
Wherever woman’s cheek at tales of injury will glow,
Wherever pitying tears are shed, and breathed is feeling’s sigh,
Wherever kindliness is sought —
The Irish need apply!

If there is aught of tenderness, If there is aught of worth,
If there’s a trace of heaven left upon our sinful earth;
If there are noble, steadfast hearts that uncomplaining die
To tread like them life’s thorny road —
The Irish will apply!

Till on Killarney’s waters blue the soft stars cease to shine,
Till round the parent oak no more the ivy loves to twine.
Till Nephin topples from his place and Shannon’s stream runs dry,
For all that’s great and good and pure —
The Irish will apply!

F.R.H.

San Antonio Daily Express (San Antonio, Texas) Aug 26, 1886

The defeat of John W. Corcoran for lieutenant governor, and the putting aside of Owen A. Galvin as a mayoralty candidate, may be regarded by the Irish-American voters as a notification from the mugwumps that when it comes to offices “no Irish need apply.” — {Boston Traveller.

The Fitchburg Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts) Nov 14, 1890

Mrs. Noshape — There, you careless creature, you have dropped that beautiful statue of Venus and Broken it all to pieces.

Bridget — Well, mum, you ought to be glad av it. Sized up alongside of Vaynus your figure was at considerable disadvantage.

And no Mrs. Noshape has advertised for a new servant that is respectful and well-behaved. No Irish need apply.

— Texas Siftings.

The Stevens Point Gazette (Stevens Point, Wisconsin) Jun 12, 1895

Image from the Parlor Songs website, and includes an interesting article about the Irish Immigrants and the song.

FAIR ENOUGH By Westbrook Pegler

[excerpt]
Hated Like Present Jew Refugees

The Irish refugees of those days, men and women of the same faith and stock from which Father Coughlin himself has sprung, were hated like the Jewish refugees of the present. Election frauds and immigration frauds were bitterly resented by the native Americans as politicians exploited the greenhorns to thwart native proposals and defeat their tickets at the polls.

The immigrants were untidy, disorderly and troublesome, speaking in general terms. So, even as late as the turn of the century, a music hall song, possibly one of Harrigan and Hart’s, sounded the refrain, “And they were Irish, and they were Irish, and yet they say ‘no Irish need apply’.”

This referred to the virtues of Irish heroes and to the open prejudice against the Irish expressed in the employment ads in American cities.

The bill against the Irish and, of course, the Catholics — for they were almost all Catholic — also accused them of carrying into their new life here their active hatred of a foreign nation with which this country was on friendly terms. It was argued that immigrants who took citizenship here had no right to imperil the life of their new country by activities which might involve the United States in a war with Great Britain.

Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Feb 25, 1939

The Tee Total Pledge

THE PICTURE. —

Note 1, the object at which they are aiming, viz, the removal of a nuisance, — the total overthrow of the rum casks. All the parties engaged seem to have this object in view, and all are laboring in their respective ways to accomplish it.

Note 2, the different kinds of instruments used for the purpose. Every one must be struck with the admirable adaptedness of the Teetotalers‘ fixtures to accomplish the object. Here is a fulcrum with a broad base, immovably fixed at a suitable distance, upon a solid foundation; lever of suitable size and length is nicely adjusted under the nuisance, and rests upon this fulcrum. Our teetotal men throw their weight upon the extreme end of the lever, and it would seem as certain as the laws of mechanics that the whole range of rum casks must tilt over.

But just as they begin to exult in the prospect of certain success by their admirable contrivance, one of them hastily cries out, “Hold, hold, neighbors, not too fast. You fulcrum is too near; I am afraid you will do injury to our cause by this precipitate measure. Let me place my moderation fulcrum under the lever, a little further back. We must be cautious, gentlemen, that we don’t injure the cause. Bear away upon my fulcrum while I hold on and steady it.”

These honest and zealous neighbors, ever ready to do any thing to remove the evil, again throw their whole weight upon the lever. They pull, and tug, and sweat, till they almost break the lever itself. But the rum casks stand firm; they budge not an inch. The moderation man persists in holding on to his fulcrum, and insists upon it that his plan is the only one that can succeed.

Now is it not perfectly apparent that all efforts upon “moderation” are utterly useless, and that the strength expended by it is lost.

Is it not then perfectly evident, that Mr. Moderation, however well meant his efforts, is in reality standing in  the way of more effectual measures, and doing more hurt than good to the cause.

Is it not also as clear as noonday, that if we would succeed, “moderation” should be laid aside, and all our efforts concentrated upon the “teetotal pledge.”

We commend the above illustration to the consideration of our moderate friends. It certainly contains matter for their serious reflection.

Alton Observer (Alton, Illinois) Jul 20, 1837

Image from the Melissa Launay Fine Arts website.

From the New England Spectator.
TEMPERANCE CELEBRATION.

The Temperance dinner and celebration was held at the Marlboro’ hotel, which was opened on that day, by Mr. Rogers. Mr. Fletcher, member of Congress from this district, presided.

We were much gratified to find such an array of talent and influence at a tee-total dinner, on the 4th of July, and at the opening of a tee-total hotel. It augurs well to the cause. Among others, were the editors of the Advocate and Mercantile Journal, Mr. Hallett and Mr. Sleeper; of the Clergy, Rev. Dr. Pierce, Mr. Pierpont, Mr. Taylor, Mr. Stow, Mr. N. Adams, Mr. Colman, Mr. Clough, &c.; and of other distinguished citizens, John Tappan, Moses Grant, Stephen Fairbanks, Dr. Walter Channing, &c.; and Mr. Snelling and others of the legal profession. There was a degree of hilarity suited to the occasion; and we did not see but that the inspiration of wit and poetry was as well excited by cold water as it usually is by wine.

At the close of the dinner, the following appropriate old composed for the occasion by Rev. Mr. Pierpont, was sung:

In Eden’s green retreats,
A water-brook, that played
Between soft, mossy seats
Beneath a plane-tree’s shade,
Whose rustling leaves
Danced o’er its brink, —
Was Adam’s drink,
and also Eve’s.

Beside the parent spring
Of that young brook, the pair
Their morning chant would sing;
And Eve, to dress her hair,
Kneel on the grass
That fringed its side,
And make its tide
Her looking glass.

And when the man of God
From Egypt led his flock,
They thirsted, and his rod
Smote the Arabian rock
And forth a rill
Of water gushed,
And on they rushed,
And drank their fill.

Would Eden thus have smiled
Had wine to Eden come?
Would Horeb’s parching wild
Have been refreshed with rum?
and had Eve’s hair
Been dressed in gin,
Would she have been
Reflected fair?

Had Moses built a still,
And dealt out to that host,
To every man his gill,
And pledged him in a toast,
How large a band,
Of Israel’s sons
Had laid their bones
In Canaan’s land?

“Sweet fields, beyond” death’s flood
“Stands dressed in living green;”
For, from the throne of God,
To freshen all the scene.
A river rolls,
Where all who will
May come and fill
Their crystal bowls.

If Eden’s strength and bloom
COLD WATER thus hath given,
If, even beyond the tomb,
It is the drink of Heaven,
Are not good wells,
And chrystal springs
The very things,
For our HOTELS?

Alton Observer (Alton, Illinois) Jul 27, 1837

Image from the Ohio History Central website.

BOYS, DO YOU HEAR THAT? —

There is a society of young ladies in Hartford, who pledge themselves not to receive the addresses of any young man who has not signed the tee-total pledge.

At a temperance meeting, not long since, a fair one offered the pledge to her friend, saying, “John, will you sign that?”

He hesitated, and finally declined. “Then,” said she, “you will understand, I shall not be at home next Sunday evening.“

Madison Express (Madison, Wisconsin) Apr 14, 1842

‘The moon,’ said a total-abstinence orator, ‘is not quite ‘tee tee total,’ but she lets her ‘Moderation’ be known to all men, for she only ‘fills her horn once a month.

‘Then she fills it with something very strong;’ observed a by stander, ‘for I’ve often seen her half gone.’

‘Ay,’ said another, ‘and I have seen her ‘full.”

Tioga Eagle (Wellsboro, Pennsylvania) Jul 13, 1842

Image from Karen’s Whimsy

“A frog,” says Professor Pump, “is an amphibious animal, as vat likers on cold water, consequently he inwented the teetotal society. He always walks with a jump he does; and ven he sits down he has to stand up. Being a lover of native melodoes, he gives free concerts every night, he does himself. He perwides music for the millyon which he has been so called because it is usually heard in the mill pond. He is a varmint wot aint so bad when broiled on a griddle. No sir ree.“

Rock River Pilot (Watertown, Wisconsin) Jul 5, 1848

Image from the National Women’s History Museum website.

Maine Liquor Law.

(CONCLUDED FROM THE LAST.)
[excerpt]

It is worthy of note that a large proportion of the Tee-totalers when they go a journey, leave their tee-total principles at home and become temperance men, and take a little wine or brandy occasionally for the stomach’s saxe and their many infirmities. Again it is asserted that a large majority of the people in the State are in favor of the Maine Law. —

Democratic State Register (Watertown, Wisconsin) Mar 15, 1852

MARCH OF MIND. —

An honest farmer in this State married a Miss from a fashionable boarding-school, for his second wife. He was struck dumb with her eloquence, and gaped with wonder at his wife’s learning.

“You may, said he, bore a hole through the solid airth, and chuck in a mill-stone, and she will tell you to a shavin’ how long the stone will be going clean threw. She has kimistery and cockneylogy, and talks a heap about ox hides and chimical affinities.

I used to think that it was air I sucked in every time I expired, howsomever, she telled me that she knew better — she telled me that I had been sucking in two kinds of gin! ox gin and high gin! I’m a tumble town tee total temperance man, and yet have been drinking ox gin, and high gin all my life.”

The Adams Sentinel (Gettsyburg, Pennsylvania) Nov 28,  1860

From Wiki

Teetotal Huzza.

BY JOHN ASQUITH.

As I rambled about one fine summers night,
I passed by some children who sung with delight,
And this was their ditty they sang at their play,
Teetotal forever, teetotal huzza.

Our fathers were sots, they had learned to love ale,
Our mothers were ragged, and their faces were pale;
The teetotal breeze blew their rags all away,
Teetotal forever, teetotal huzza.

Our bonnets were torn, and our shoes went click clack;
Our frocks went to uncles and could not get back;
But master Teetotaler did fetch them away,
Teetotal forever, teetotal huzza.

Our houses were naked, we had scarcely a chair,
The strong drink had broken the  crockery ware,
We have now chairs, and tables, and china so gay,
Teetotal forever, teetotal huzza.

We lived on dry bread, and just what we could get,
And if we had nothing we scarcely durst fret.
We have now beef and pudding, on each Sabbath day,
Teetotal forever, teetotal huzza.

We lived in deep sorrow, and darkness, and strife,
And who knows the ills of a drunkard’s child’s life.
But now we are happy, can dance, sing and play,
Teetotal forever, teetotal huzza.

Cedar Falls Gazette (Cedar Falls, Iowa) Feb 12, 1869

A water-spout — A teetotal lecture.

Indiana Progress (Indiana, Prennsylvania) Jan 29, 1874

Whom Do Great Men Marry?

Whom Do Great Men Marry?

Women, of course. But they show the same diversity of taste that is seen in the lower rank, and, on the whole, make worse mistakes. They, however, generally show the same sense in choosing wives that they show in managing other people’s affairs, whether it be good or bad.

Robert Burns

Robert Burns married a farm girl with whom he fell in love while they worked together in a plow field. He, too, was irregular in his life, and committed the most serious mistakes in conducting his domestic affairs.

John Milton

Milton married the daughter of a country squire, but lived with her only a short time. He was austere, exacting, a literary recluse; while she was a rosy, romping country lass that could not endure the restraint imposed upon her, so they separated. Subsequently, however, she returned and they lived tolerably happy.

Queen Victoria

Queen Victoria and Prince Albert were cousins, and about the only example in the long line of English monarchs wherein the marital vows were sincerely observed, and sincere affection existed.

William Shakespeare

Shakspeare* loved and wed a farmer’s daughter. She proved faithful to her vows, but we could hardly say the same for the great bard himself. Like most of the great poets, he showed too little discrimination in bestowing his affections on the other sex.

Lord Byron

Byron married Miss Milbank to get money to pay his debts. It turned out a bad shift.

Ben Franklin

Benjamin Franklin married the girl who stood in her father’s door and laughed at him as he wandered through the streets of Philadelphia with rolls of bread under his arms and his pockets filled with dirty clothes. She had occasion to be happy when she found herself the wife of such a good and great man.

George Washington

Washington married a widow with two children. It is enough to say of her that she was worthy of him, and that they lived, as married folks should, in perfect harmony.

John Adams

John Adams married the daughter of a Presbyterian clergyman. Her father objected on account of John being a lawyer; he had a bad opinion of the morals of the profession.

Thomas Jefferson

Thomas Jefferson married Mrs. Martha Skelton, a childless widow, but she brought him a large fortune in real estate. After the ceremony she mounted the horse behind him and they rode home together. It was late in the evening, and they found the fire out. But the great statesman bustled around and rebuilt it, while she seized the broom and soon put things in order. It is needless to say that they were happy though Jefferson died a poor man, on account of his extreme liberality and hospitality.

John Howard

John Howard, the great philanthropist, married his nurse. She was altogether beneath him in social life and intellectual capacity, and besides this, was fifty-two years old, while he was but twenty-five. He would not take “no” for an answer, and they were married and lived happily together till her death, which occurred two years afterward.

Peter the Great

Peter the Great, of Russia, married a peasant girl. She made an excellent wife and a sage Empress.

Alexander von Humboldt

Humboltd* married a poor girl because he loved her. Of course they were happy.

Andrew Jackson

It is not generally known that Andrew Jackson married a lady whose husband was still living. She was an uneducated, but amiable woman, and was most devotedly attached to the old warrior and statesman.

John C. Calhoun

John C. Calhoun married his cousin, and their children fortunately were not idiotic nor diseased, but they do not evince the talent of the great “States Rights” advocate.

Edward Bulwer-Lytton

Edward Lytton Bulwer*, the English statesman and novelist, married a girl much his inferior in position, and got a shrew for his wife. She is now insane.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Apr 16, 1869

*typos in the original newspaper article.

Remember This Old-Time Favorite?

Label image from http://www.minivodkaguy.com

Um, nope, never heard of it. But while searching for something unrelated, I came across an advertisement for Chicken Cock Whiskey, and thought it was a rather funny name for whiskey.  Seemed sort of redundant to me. Anyway, that prompted me to search the keywords “chicken cock” to see what else I could find. The results follow, intermingled with several Chicken Cock Whiskey ads. I bolded each “chicken cock” so they are easy to spot if you don’t want to read each complete article.

1869 - Galveston, Texas

SAM HOUSTON’S DUEL.

In 1826, six miles south of Franklin, Ky., on the farm of H.J. Duncan, two hundred yards from the Tennessee line, was fought a duel which created widespread excitement throughout the Union, owing to the reputation of the principals. In 1826, Gen. Sam Houston was a member of Congress from the Nashville district in Tennessee, and sending home for distribution a number of documents, he claimed that Curry, the postmaster at Nashville, suppressed and failed to deliver them and, denounced him a scoundrel. For this Curry sent him a challenge by Gen. White. Houston refused  to receive the message, as he stated, “from such a contemptible source,” throwing it on the ground and stamping on it. Gen. White said he was surprised, as no one expected Houston to fight.

To this Houston retorted, “Do you try me.”

Of course a challenge followed from White which Houston promptly accepted. The terms and conditions were, “fifteen feet distance; holster pistols; time sunrise.”

The place chosen as stated, was in Simpson county. On the 23d day of September, 1826, the parties met at the designated point with their seconds. The fact that a duel was to be fought had gone abroad, and a number of persons had secreted themselves near the field to witness the affair, a fact unknown to either principles or seconds. After the first shots had been exchanged and White had fallen to the ground the people rushed to the spot. Houston seeing them, and fearing an arrest, started toward the state line with a view of escaping.

Gen. White called to him, “General, you have killed me.”

Houston then faced the crowd with pistol still in hand, and inquired if there were any officers of the law in the among them, and being answered in the negative he advanced to the side of his late antagonist and kneeling by him took his hand saying: “I am very sorry for you, but you know that it was forced upon me.”

Gen. white replied, “I know it and forgive you.”

White had been shot through just above the hips, and to cleanse the wound of blood the surgeons run one of their old fashioned silk neckerchiefs through the wound. Gen. White recovered from his fearful wound as much to the joy of Houston as himself.

During the week preceding the duel Houston remained at the home of Sanford Duncan, near the field, practicing meanwhile with pistols. At his temporary home were two young belligerent dogs, named for their pugnacious dispositions Andrew Jackson and Thomas H. Benton. These were continually fighting, Houston’s political sentiments leading him to espouse the cause of the Jackson pup, who, very much to his delight, was a constant winner in the frays.

The hour of arising and preparing for the duel on the arrival of the day was 3:40 a.m. Just before that hour “Gen. Jackson” barked beneath the window of his admirer’s room, awakening him. Houston arose without disturbing his attending friends, and began the task of molding bullets with which to fight Gen. White. As the first bullet fell from the mold a game-cock, which he had admired scarcely less than he did the dog, crowed a loud, clear note. Houston, with that element of superstition which finds a place in nearly every mind, accepted the early greetings of his friends as a happy omen, and marking the bullet one side for the dog and the other for the chicken, made up his mind that his pistol should be loaded with it, and that he would first fire that particular ball at General White.

He afterward said that “he was not superstitious, but these two circumstances made him feel assured of success,” thus disproving his own words. The bullet was used and White fell at the first fire, as stated.

After the duel Houston selected as a coat-of-arms “a chicken cock and dog,” and many were the comments made by those unfamiliar with the facts in after years, when as president of Texas and senator in Congress, he sported so strange a crest. These facts are authentic, having been related by Gen. Houston to Sanford Duncan, jr., late of Louisville, while the two were en route to Washington city during Houston’s term as senator.

The Herald And Torch Light (Hagerstown, Maryland) Aug 4, 1887

1893 - Lowell, Massachusetts

False Salute.

The rebel sympathising papers throughout the length and breadth of the land have been celebrating what they are pleased to consider a victory in the late election in Connecticut, by displaying at the head of their columns the consecrated emblem of their party and principles, namely a dominica dunghill chicken cock.

This is a fit emblem of the principles of their party. It is only upon the dunghills of ignorance, vice, immorality and barbarism that the toeless, frozen comb, and frost-bitten chicken-cock of Democracy can flap his dirty wings and utter a feeble cock-a-doodle-doo of galvanized delight. But even the poor privilege of doing this with any degree of assurance the elections that have occurred since that of Connecticut have rendered absurd and ridiculous.  These election returns can be seen in another place, and they are anything but an indication of progress backwards by the American people.

The Herald And Torch Light (Hagerstown, Maryland) Apr 10, 1867

For background; from same page of the paper:

At an election on the  1st inst., in this State the Copperheads succeeded in electing their candidate for Governor, and three out of the four Congressmen. Two of these Congressional districts were Democratic at last year’s election, and the third only showed a small republican majority.

The enemies of intelligence and freedom have, therefore, only succeeded in overcoming a small majority in one of the Congressional districts, and carried the same against P.T. Barnum, a most unfortunate nomination on the part of the Republicans. Mr. Barnum of course is vastly less objectionable to the moral consciousness of the people, than a prize fighter, such as John Morrisy, whom the Copperheads of New York sent to Congress….

The Herald And Torch Light (Hagerstown, Maryland) Apr 10, 1867

1906 - Reno, Nevada

Superstitions.

Country folk – some in jest, some in earnest – translate the voice of a chicken cock crowing at the door into “Stranger coming to-day,” and we remember an old lady who invariably made preparation for company when the waring note was sounded upon her premises. In thirty years, she declared, the sign had never failed.

The Indiana Democrat (Indiana, Pennsylvania) Jan 6 1881

1936 - Mansfield, Ohio

Not Appreciated.

The following is all the notice which our contemporary, the Mail, takes of the splendid triumph of Republicanism in Vermont.

“First reports from Vermont give an increased majority for the Republicans. Vermont is all theirs, and the Green Mountain chicken crows loudly on its own wood-pile.”

We understand that paper had made arrangements to put its “tooting” apparatus in full blast in case rebelized Democracy had increased its vote in that State, but the jollification didn’t come off. The fire went down quietly, or was as quietly put out. That election is the grave of the hopes of the Mail and its friends. Good by Democracy. Good bye to the “tooting” performances of the Mail. The 1st of September has smashed the former and silenced the squeak of the latter. Prepare to reverse the position of your dominica chicken cock. Let it have its back to the ground and its heels, gaffed with treason, in the air.

The Herald And Torch Light (Hagerstown, Maryland) Sep 3, 1868

1936 - Mansfield, Ohio

Back in the day, the newspaper editors seemed to really duke it out in their columns. They can be some of the most entertaining things to read in the old papers,  particularly if you can find both sides, which is not the case  for this one:

FOR THE REPUBLICAN COMPILER.
Copy of a letter dated
HARTFORD, Aug. 1, 1820.

Dear Jonathan. – Received yours — nation great favor — very glad to get it; don’t thank you much neither, for copying off my letter and sending it back again — think you might made something of your own; but you used to make new spoons out of old pewter dishes — thought you’d try it again. Heard you’d chang’d your name — glad you got your old one back again — guess you got ‘shamd of your new one — think its no wonder — best a kept your old one — people know you any how, think. Talking about whitewashing, had a mind to whitewash you, to hide the stains — took another look of you — found it must be a foot thick — even wouldn’t do; the stains all over only want another shade; think you best buy lampblack, get some one paint you – if you’re axt how fair you have a mind to be — say jist as white outside as in. Heard you were dead; some say you were and rose again — quite queer thing — have to b’lieve it letter looks so like you — little scaly too; think you’re sick — you look something like a half drowned chicken cock, pecked ‘most to death — too soon begin to crow — too many old games ’bout here — better hold your tongue; they’ve got long spurs — cut your comb for you think — not leave a feather on you — look a little odd when naked — better be still. Queer kind of fowl, Jonathan — put me in mind of the jackdaw with peacock’s feathers on — difference jist this; jackdaw got his stolen feathers plucked out, got a drubbin, and thats enough for him — you better stuff — got worse whipt — won’t behave yet — think you get as much as you’ve a mind to; They say you’ve got turkey feathers put on to cheat the eagles with — want to pass for one; wno’t do, Jonathan — your eyes too bad — too near a been blind — eagles always seen to sharp for you. Cousin doughface got a cart for sale, made for two horses — I got one — you’d best bring a nag from ‘mong the Pennamites with you — but they say Pennamite and Yankee naggies wont pull together; s’pose you found that out by this time.

You promise to come my road — be sure when you come to bring something with you — dont do as you did last time. Talk something ’bout celebrations and modest people — think they’re scarce where you came from — guess you never seen a modest man before; you must know, Jonathan, every one hant got as much impudence as you and

CAUSTIC.

P.S. You may write as many letters as you have a mind to; but dont take the Hiesterics too bad, as you did tother time — tell your secrets when you’ve a mind to keep them; think you had not much mind to tell your real name, if you had not got a fit of them, which mostly makes people insane.

Republican Compiler (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Aug 16, 1820

1936 - Mansfield, Ohio

ROOSTER STORY CONCERNS FIGHT AT FORT M’HENRY

Baltimore — (AP) — Whether there was a rooster at Fort McHenry during the bombardment by the British in 1814 has been a controversial matter for many years. Legend has it that a rooster, because of his happy crowing, made everybody feel a lot better during the battle.

After James E. Hancock, president of the Society of the War of 1812, said at the recent Defenders’ day exercises, he believed the rooster story was a myth, John A. Hartman of Baltimore brought forth the memoirs of his father, John B. Seidenstricker.

Seidenstricker wrote that his uncle, Henry Barnhart, “was under Colonel Armistead at Fort McHenry during bombardment by the British fleet. He had a chicken cock there that he prized very hightly, because of its beauty perhaps, and was careful to preserve it from all harm.

“But he could not protect it from a fragment of a bursting shell which struck the rooster on his foot, causing it, from alarm of pain, to fly up and light upon the flagstaff, where he remained, crowing occasionally, until the conflict ceased.

“Colonel Armistead offered to purchase the cock but he would not part with it and kept it until it died, when he placed it in a suitable box and in company with a platoon of fort soldiers, buried it with the honors of war, firing several rounds over its grave.”

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Sep 16, 1932

1936 - Uniontown, Pennsylvania

This one is really long, so I bolded the section, rather than just the “chicken cock.” I think this person was some sort of an armchair general or something.

The Aspects of the War — What Next?

The Army of the Potomac has just performed one of those evolutions, for which it is so justly renowned. It has marched forward and then marched back again. As a gymnastic performance, it has been well done, and as exercise is absolutely necessary to health, it is not to be regretted that the army has had an opportunity of stretching its limbs and breathing the fresh air. It has at last arrived at “Brandy Station.” The frequency with which both the rebel and Union armies dwell at this station shows it to be a fashionable place of resort to military gentlemen. We trust the name is rather metaphorical than real. It is “given out” (see the Washington telegraphs) that the grand march over the Rapidan was made to prevent reinforcements from Lee to Longstreet. Perhaps so; but there are some objections to that theory. — Meade began his march on the 27th (Friday) and the army of Bragg had been defeated two days before, leaving Grant at liberty to cut off Longstreet and reinforce Burnside; besides which more than a week must elapse before any efficient reinforcements could reach Longstreet — bringing it to the 4th of December — before which time the fate of the contest between Burnside and Longstreet must have been decided. — Let the theory stand, however, till a better can be given. The facts seem to show that Meade’s army went on very well till it ran against some fortifications, which not liking to storm, it turned back. But, the question may be asked, why not go around them? Why should a man run against a fort, when there is room enough to go around?

It seems that Meade’s army crossed partly at, and partly above where Hooker did; that being across the river instead of moving onward toward Richmond; it wheeled to the right and formed a line of battle across the road from Frederick to Orange Court House, with the right resting on the Rapidan; that between this line of battle and Orange Court House, Lee with his army, in his fortifications. It seems to me that this performance was exactly like what I have seen performed by a chicken cock on the farm, who by deploying his squadron from the barnyard in front of his rival at the chickenhouse, stops, flaps his wings, and crows (in his expressive language) “Come on!” But his enemy will not come, but crows in the intrenchments of the chickenhouse; whereupon the challenger thinks enough has been done for his honor, and retreats on the barnyard. I hope no military hero, renowned in war, will feel aggrieved at this comparison. The analogies of nature are very strong. The great and illustrious men of science are now engaged in tracing man back to monkey. For my own part, I consider a comparison with a game cock far more dignified. I never saw a baboon without a supreme contempt for him, while a game cock has many admirable qualities.

To return form our digression. Meade’s army did not pass by Lee’s; because, if it did, Lee could pass behind it, on the road to Washington. In fact, we must consider the Army of the Potomac as (what it has been for a year past,) a mere movable breastwork for the defense of Washington. Nor is that fact of any positive importance. — Unless Richmond can be taken, from the west side of James River, there is no great use in taking it at all, for, in any other case, the army and the great criminals who compose the rebel Government, will all escape to Lynchburg or Danville. Richmond, as a strategic point, is not worth a straw.

Leaving the Army of the Potomac to its winter quarters, at Brandy Station, we pass to the glorious Army of the Cumberland. That army, which, in the poetic language of General Meigs, fought part of “its battle above the clouds,” which stormed Lookout Mountain, 2,000 feet high, and crowned its summits with living laurels, green as its mountain pines. That army may be thankful, if covetous of fame, that it is not within reach of Washington. To that army our eyes must turn. Will that, too, go into winter quarters? Or will Gen. Grant, with his characteristic vigor and judgment, asking no leave of winter or of enemies, push on, dealing deadly blows at every step? This is what ought to be done. Can he do it? The first thing in the way of the army is the necessity of establishing a new depot of provisions and munitions at Chattanooga. Whenever an army advances a hundred miles, or more, a new center of supplies must be established, and one of the first considerations in the plan of a campaign is where the depots of supplies shall be. Admitting the successful advance of the army, new depots must be established at each and every successive advance. — Nor is this all. Their communications must be kept open, and their defenses such that they can stand a moderate siege. Gen. Grant has had one very instructive example of this in the seizure of his stores at Holly Springs. Heretofore Nashville has been the great center of supplies for the armies in Tennessee.

Now, Chattanooga must be made a center. Nor will there be any great difficulty in this. From Nashville to Chattanooga by rail, is 151 miles, which will make an easy and safe line of transit, when we occupy, as we now do, the defensible points south of Bridgeport. The bridge over the Tennessee must be completed; a great mass of stores removed from Nashville to Chattanooga; and the defenses on the Northern extremities of Mission and Lookout Ridges made strong. When this is done, the army is ready to move two hundred miles further. But this is heavy work, and may take two or three weeks or more. Will Grant then advance? Certainly, if he does not contradict his own character, and all the demands of the war. He has already given us, an example of what he will do in his march on Holly Springs and Grenada, in the middle of December.  Besides, what is there to arrest the march of an army in the South in winter? Is there any reason to stop the operations of an army in Southern Ohio, during winter? Not at all; and there is still less in Georgia. When the troops get disentangled from all the ridges of mountains, that extend about forty miles south of Chattanooga, they will find a winter march comparatively easy. It will not do for our armies to stand still. Now is the time, when every blow tells upon the rebels with double force. They are like the sinking pugilist, who after having stood several rounds with apparent strength and courage, begins to feel the blood oozing from his veins; his sight grows dizzy; his limbs become unsteady, and he deals hard, but ill-directed blows, which often strike the empty air, till he begins to stagger. Then two or three blows from his adversary, fell him to the earth, and he rises no more. Cut off from half their territory; cut off, from their cattle in Texas, and their sugar in Louisiana; their men exhausted by war and disease; their money worthless; their people dissatisfied, how much longer can they last? Toombs’ speech; the North Carolina election; the Richmond papers; the constant accounts of distress and exhaustion from every quarter, tell the story without any resort to argument or imagination. The rebels are staggering from exhaustion, and their only hope is that Lee and Bragg may keep the field till somebody offers them peace or compromise.

The hope is in vain.

Unconditional surrender is the only terms they will be allowed.

Whether their rebel dominion perishes in the last ditch or not; whether they die in battle or by exhaustion, they will come to an early end, and be remembered only for the most signal folly and the most signal punishment which the world ever saw since the downfall of Rome. — Cin. Gaz.

Burlington Weekly Hawkeye, The (Burlington, Iowa) Dec 12, 1863

Terry’s Texas Rangers

Flag image,  and much more,  can be found here: Terry’s Texas Rangers

THE TERRY RANGERS. —

A friend has kindly handed us a brief sketch of the Terry Rangers whose achievements in the late war constitute an interesting chapter in its history. Among the gallant members of the regiment was Capt. Griffin, who joined it in August 1861. It was in the skirmish at Woodsonville that Colonel Terry was killed. Gen. Johnston evacuated Bowling Green February 1862, when the Terry Rangers covered the retreat to Shiloh, soon after which the battle of Shiloh was fought. Soon after the victory of Murfressburo was won at which the Rangers were commanded by Forrest.

Subsequently this Regiment joined Bragg at Sparta, Tennessee, and bore a conspicuous part in the battle of Perryville, and afterwards covered the retreat through Cumberland Gap into East Tennessee. Next this Regiment went to Murfreesboro, where it performed nearly all the Post and scouting service, until the attack by Rosecrans which was repulsed successfully and a Confederate victory obtained. It was here that Capt. Griffin was captured,  while on out post duty, and taken to Nashville, and after eight days sent to Bowling Green, and thence to Alton, Illinois, thence, in company with 800 prisoners, he was started to Camp Douglas, but made his escape on the way by jumping from the cars in company with Joseph Stewart, another Ranger.

After various adventures Capt. G. finally joined his Regiment again near Shelbyville in April 1863, and was with the Regiment in the battle of Chickamauga, and was promoted to a Captaincy for meritorious conduct in the spring of 1864, by Col. Patterson, and afterwards that honor was confirmed by Gen. Johnston, by whom he was assigned to special scouting service, in which he continued in separate command of his Company to the close of the war. Every surviving member of that Regiment could, doubtless, furnish us with many interesting events of their campaigns which should constitute a portion of the future history of the war.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas)  Jul 1, 1866

Thomas Harrison (Image from http://www.terrystexasrangers.org)

We noticed incidentally the other day the arrival of Col. Thomas Harrison. We think his services and record during the war entitle him, on his return home, to a more extended notice.

He entered the service as Captain in 1861, and was, on the organization of that celebrated regiment, the “Terry Rangers,” elected Major. In 1862 he was Lieutenant Colonel. —

In the fall of that same year he was commissioned Colonel. Not many months after his appointment be was placed in command of a brigade, under General Wharton, and very earnestly recommended by Wharton, Polk, Hardee and others for promotion, in terms as highly honorable as a soldier could desire. A miserable intrigue retarded his promotion until a short time before the war closed, when he received the appointment of Brigadier General. During the time he was Colonel, he had the command of a brigade or division. He was always in demand when fighting was on hand, and has fought many times in the States of Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, Kentucky, Georgia and North and South Carolina.

It is believed that he has been under fire a greater number of times than any other officer in the service. It is no compliment to him to say that as commander of a regiment, brigade or division, no officer in the army, known to us, has exceeded him in devotion to the service, in gallantry, or in the judgment with which he fought his command. This at least is conceded by all who have known his history during the war. He had been wounded shortly before General Johnston’s surrender and was not present when that event occurred. He made his way to Alabama, not intending to give his parol, in the hope that Texas was still under arms. —

Finding, however, that our army had been disbanded, he gave his parol. We welcome back this gallant soldier who has won his laurels on so many battle-fields. Whatever has been our misfortunes, we are sure they are not attributable to him. We trust he may yet enjoy many years of happiness; that he may yet be useful to a country for whom he has freely offered his life, and would, as we believe, have freely given it.

The Colonel’s baggage, horses, &c., together with his boy, Jerry, were in Greensboro when the Yankee surprised it. The horse the Colonel had used through the war was saddled; Jerry mounted him and escaped. He made his way to his master in Mississippi, and was much delighted to meet him. He is on his way home by land. We mention this as an incident to show the deep seated affection of thousands of slaves to their old homes and old masters. All the legislation in the world cannot change that feeling. All the fanaticism of the world cannot destroy it.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Jun 16, 1865

Image from http://www.terrystexasrangers.org

Terry’s Texas Rangers.

THE MAMALUKES OF THE WAR.
From the Louisville Courier-Journal.

It is well known that the late Confederate States cavalry, so-called, were in the main strictly speaking, simply mounted infantry, doing splendid service, it is true, but always dismounting and preferring to dismount and fight, unless the want of time and circumstances prevented. Terry’s Rangers were, however, an exception.

They were organized, armed and equipped and in action specially reserved for regular cavalry charging. Circumstances and the nature of the ground may have sometimes prevented, but this was their forte. Each was armed with a double-barreled shot gun, two revolvers and a ponderous bowie, and adding to courage, confidence, and being most excellent horsemen, they may in truth be said to have been the Mamelukes of the war. They were in many respects a remarkable body of men — remarkable for the esprit du corps, their unwavering confidence in the final success of the cause, their lofty bearing in camp and in field, and the general intelligence of the rank and file. No bills of lading or chimney corner receipts for the cure of whooping cough and measles, or other false or fabricated papers, written, or printed ever passed spy or bummers through lines guarded by ranger pickets; while their reports of the strength, position and movements of the enemy were always timely, valuable, and wonderfully correct.

At Murfreesboro, Friday night, when Bragg was secretly and silently preparing for one if his famous movements to the rear, a ranger galloped up and exclaimed,

“General, the enemy himself is in full retreat.” He was reprimanded and headquarters passed on.

Afterwards Hardee was heard to remark, “not a devil of those rangers but would make at leaset a Brigadier.”

Their excellent material is accounted for by the fact that they were picked men, and the flower of the Texas youth. It had been charged by Union men pending the vote on the proposition for the State to secede, that secession was war, and that having brought it on rich men’s sons would seek place and power, and poor men would have to do the fighting. This aspersion it was important to refute, once for all, and at the first bugle’s blast.

Accordingly, Terry, the Bayard of the State, issued a call which inspired the wildest enthusiasm, and the sons of the most eminent, most influential and most wealthy vied with each other in a zealous and prompt response. In less than ten days the regiment was filled beyond the maximum. Numbers went away disappointed, some dejected, like the Spartans of old, because not chosen to die for their country. At their own request they were sworn in “for the war,” absolutely and without condition, and this months anterior to the call for troops for three years. Each man furnished his own horse, arms and equipments, and in a large measure paid his own way to the seat of conflict. They left Houston, Texas, 1160 strong; 500 recruits were received from time to time, making a total muster roll of 1660 names. They were in over one hundred distinct engagements from first to last, from Woodsonville, Ky., to Graham station, N.C., near which place they fought the last fight of the war, and surrendered, 244 all told, with but one deserter.

Image from terrystexasrangers.org

II.
Gen. Albert Sidney Johnson, at Shiloh, witnessing their charge in column upon a strong position, while Hardee moved in the rear, and which resulted in the capture of Gen. Prentiss and his entire command, enthusiastically exclaimed, “with a little more discipline they would be the equals of the Old Guard.” Tuesday evening at Shiloh, the enemy had passed to within one mile of Breckinridge, who was covering the retreat with the remains of his shattered and wearied division. Midway between, the rangers contesting the ground almost truly inch by inch.

The fresh troops of Buell, impatient at delay, and flushed with the hope of overtaking and capturing the gallant Kentuckian and his entire force, which they believed exhausted and a sure prey from hard marching and two days’ desperate fighting, now threw forward two regiments of infantry, supported by one of Ohio cavalry, who, in fine array, came rapidly on as hounds and hunters when their game is at bay. The rangers had suffered a loss of over one hundred, more than ten per cent., in the two days previous conflicts. Wharton, their third colonel since the mournful fall of Terry at Woodsonville, had lost several horses, was twice wounded and borne to the rear the preceding day. Lieut. Col. Ferrill, detached with two companies to burn the white-tented cities, still standing despite the storm that had swept through and over them, was yet absent; so that the whole force left under Major Harrison did not exceed three hundred men.

He had just wheeled from column of fours into line of battle, stretching across the road, and exhorted his men to check their pursuers and give the little army placed in their keeping time to bridge through the mire that impeded their wearied limbs, or opportunity to form if necessary, when Forrest with forty men rode up and lengthened the line to the right. The enemy halted. A level space of some six hundred yards lay between, clear and open except a dead tree here and there on the opposite side. Behind these trees sharp-shooters took post and began to pour in damaging shots just as the command “Reserve fire for close quarters, forward!” passed from right to left re-echoed by subalterns. Horse and rider, though both were jaded, caught new life, and swept onward, straight onward at topmost speed.

The horse, noble everywhere, nowhere bears himself so proudly as in battle. He seems conscious of the danger into which he plunges, but emulous to bear his rider the foremost and bravest of them all; and mortal must be the wound if either foresakes his trust. The well known Texas yell is raised now, and swells louder and louder, and even above the roar of musketry. Horse and rider, one, the other, now in heaps, fall, but the line knits together where gaps have been made, and moves, thunders on into the deadliest sheet of flame. Anon, they waver. The horses falter. A miry bog had impeded the way, but they clear it. At fifty yards the double barrels, loaded with buck and ball, are brought into play, each volley making wide openings in enemy’s line.

Still shouting and “slinging” their guns on the pummels of their saddles, the rangers draw revolvers and make short fire and finishing work, just as the rattling of artillery coming to the enemy’s relief is heard in the distance. One-third of the enemy’s infantry are rode and shot down. The remainder brake and flee through the ranks of their cavalry. These are bowed further and further back, and despite the appeals of their gallant colonel to stand firm, they yield or flee, one, two, and squads at a time — until their leader falls, and the Grey are victorions to the last on Shiloh’s bloody ground.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Feb 27, 1869

Image from http://www.terrystexasrangers.org

TERRY’S TEXAS RANGERS.

The Recent Reunion Reminds a Veteran of an Incident at Shiloh.

HEMPSTEAD, Tex., December 20. — TO THE NEWS:

The interesting report of THE NEWS in to-day’s paper of the reunion of Terry’s Texas rangers in Houston last night reminded the writer of a reminiscence of the battle of Shiloh, fought April 6 and 7, 1862, between the forces of General U.S. Grant of the federal army, and General Albert Sidney Johnston of the confederate.

The writer was a private in Captain William Christian’s company, Second Texas Infantry regiment. The battle was planned by General Johnston to be opened on Saturday morning, April 5, at daylight, and the entire army slept on their arms in front of the federal army on Friday night, the 4th. A heavy rain storm fell and the troops were soaked thoroughly.

The plan of opening the battle on the 5th failed on account of Major-general Breckinridge’s division failing to reach the point assigned them in the order of battle. The heavy rains caused the roads to be almost impassable, and the cavalry and artillery made their condition worse than ever. Breckinridge could not come up until twenty-four hours later. This was why the battle was opened on Sunday.

The federal army was encamped between Lick and Owl creeks, extending from Pittsburg landing, on the Tennessee river, over a distance of two miles. General Johnson formed his army into three lines of battle. The first one was composed of Tennesseeans, who made the advance and struck the first line of encampments almost before the men could get out of their tents. The frightened troops then collected toward the second line of encampment, where the confederates encountered the federals drawn up in line of battle, and a furious fight opened all along the line. This was kept up all day until General Johnston in comman after he had been killed about 2 o’clock p.m. Many of the confederates, believing that they had won a great victory, became demoralized and scattered during the night, many plundering the deserted federal camps.

At daylight Monday morning, the 7th, it was learned that General Buell, with 20,000 fresh men, had reinforced General Grant’s whipped army of the 6th. The confederate rallied in every direction, and soon another great battle was in progress. The federals slowly drove the confederates back over the route of their advance the morning before.

The writer had been slightly wounded on Sunday afternoon in the advance on General Prentis’ division, and in company with about 200 stragglers and wounded men, had sought to escape the cannon balls of the federals. While waiting here a dashing cavalryman rode up and commenced a speech.

“Who are you?” several inquired.

“One of Terry’s rangers,” was the reply.

“Oh yes, we are nearly all Texas boys,” was the reply.

“Men of Texas, descendants of the old heroes of San Jacinto and other glorious achievements of your fathers, rally once more and come up here and form into line. I will lead you as an independent company. We can whip the Yankees as easy as yesterday. Come up, I say, and show what Texas boys can do.” {He ducked his head occasionally as a cannon ball whizzed by.}

“I tell you, boys,” said Bill Mathews of the Second Texas, “that fellow is a good speaker.”

“He must be a preacher or a lawyer,” said another.

“He talks well,” several remarked; but the line was not formed.

The lone cavalryman happened to cast his eyes in the direction of the river, and coming down a hill was seen several thousand of the federals advancing with the first two lines having crossed bayonets. “Boys, look out, there they come; save yourselves,” said he, and spurring his horse he made very fast time to the rear.

The writer hopes the gallant ranger may be alive and read this. He will doubtless laugh as loud as anybody.

After General Beaureguard had given the order to retreat to Corinth on Monday afternoon Terry’s rangers were ordered to act as a rear guard while the infantry and artillery could retreat. They formed several lines of battle across the Corinth road and drove back the federal cavalry advance.

True the war is over now, but old soldiers love to talk over the exciting events of a quarter of a century ago. We have all had war enough, and the survivors of the war venerate the star spangled banner as much as those whe met on the battlefields of the war twenty-five years ago.

National decoration day, May 20, shows that, and the gallant men who met each other in the shock of battle now go arm in arm and scatter the flowers of spring over the graves of brave men, not inquiriing whether they once wore the blue or the gray.

SIOUX, War Correspondent.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Dec 23, 1888

Terry's Texas Rangers Reunion 1902 - Dallas (Image from http://www.terrystexasrangers.org)

RANGER’S REUNION
The Survivors of the Eighth Texas Regiment Concentrate for Action.
(Excerpts)

“Welcome, Terry Rangers.”
This was a voluntary offering to the survivors by the wives of resident Rangers, and hung over the stage at the north end of the hall.

“We will do it or die.” — Gustave Cook.
This answer was made by Col. Gustave Cook, commanding, when asked by a general officer if his regiment could dislodge a heavy field battery, with a brigade reserve.

“They know no such word as fail.” — John A. Wharton.
Reply of this distinguished soldier when asked if he could hold a position for a length of time against a largely superior force.

“You have done well.” — Thos. Harrison.
After a successful charge by the regiment in a critical hour of battle. Revered by the regiment from the fact that he rarely complimented any individual or concerted act of heroism, however great, and that his command was above praise for any action.

“If there is danger ahead put the Terry Rangers in front.” — Joseph Wheeler.
This was the universal order of march when there was work ahead or anticipated by this celebrated cavalry general.

“Yes, go to sleep; the Terry Rangers are between you and the enemy.” — N.B. Forrest.
This was a reply of this great soldier when asked by a brigade commander if he should unsaddle and rest and sleep.
…..
Capt. Christian proposed — The Memory of Gen. John A. Wharton, Drunk standing and in silence.

Image from http://www.findagrave.com

A member of the command then read the
FOLLOWING POEM,
which was written for the occasion by Mrs. C. M Pearre of Galveston:

Comrades:

A few fierce years we met together
In a desolate land of graves,
Braved shot, or shell, or roughest weather,
Our glorious Southern cause to save,
Together, saw our hopes pass away.
Radiant-colored hopes that beamed
Resplendent on that bright spring day
When o’er us first a banner streamed.

Together, saw a strange banner unfurled
With the aroma of blood, suggestive cost
These burning words for a gazing world,
Thy cause, they Southern cause, is lost!
Met wars fiat, as brave men meet,
With folded hands and heads bowed low;
But unswerving eyes on that last retreat
Told our valor to the conquering foe.

Then came of years a dreary dearth,
Our manhood in lethargy was shrouded;
When mental chaos by painful birth,
Produced a rainbow all unclouded.
It spanned our glorious country round,
Warmed hostile hearts of each brother,
Who thereon read this truth profound:
This is our country, we have no other!

Then brighten the day with joy and mirth,
Let music peal her gladest strains,
Sing the songs of camp and hearth,
Spirit voices may sound the refrains.
Let the sparkling wine go round,
Toast Reunion day in every form,
Until each comrade’s heart is bound
With chords magnetic, true and warm.
Last of all, one toast we will call
(Drink it comrades with bowed head,
Other forms will throng the hall) —
In memory of our “Noble Dead.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Dec 17, 1876